


On The Edge

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [12]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death In Dream, Hurt!Thorin, M/M, a little bit of fluff just because, kind of OOC!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:55:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo wakes with a jolt and a shout. His vision is blurry, and for seconds on end he thinks they’re still at the cliff, fire surrounding them, the tree beneath them unsteadily holding onto the ground with its quickly breaking roots. But when his eyes focus, he finds they are where the eagles had dropped them off. It’s night time, and the Dwarves (and perhaps Gandalf) are all asleep, save one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> WOOPS I BAGGINSHIELD'ED FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER. And I was trying to write prompt fills, but this happened instead, aaaaaaaaaaahahahahaha THIS KEEPS HAPPENING.
> 
> This is an idea that's been brewing with me for a while, because I think it would be great [if the second Hobbit movie opened the same way the second LoTR movie opened](http://mangocianamarch.tumblr.com/post/55008242624/okay-but-thilbo-bagginshield-y-alternate-idea-to): with a Hobbit dreaming of someone falling down a cliff which causes them to wake up shouting their name. I've been wanting to write Bagginshield for a while now, so this happened. Am I gonna write first-time!smut in Beorn's house!Bagginshield one day in connection to this? It's possible. Maybe even probable. We'll see.

_The trees have fallen. They cling for their lives on the branches of the last that stands, and even that is unsteady. Around them, the flames grow high and hot, blocking any other chance of escape. There are only two ways out now, neither more pleasing an option than the other._

_On one end, a drop to the ends of the earth._

_On the other, the massive pale Orc, atop his white warg, sneering and leering at them, weapon in his one good hand, the claws of the other arm menacing in the dark._

_But then Thorin stands, drawing up to his full height, far more impressive than Bilbo has ever seen him. His Elvish blade glistens in his hand, his long hair flying in the wind as he glares at his old enemy. Bilbo cannot tear his eyes away, not even when Thorin starts marching down the tree, his oak shield braced into his other arm. And then the Dwarf King is raising his weapon, breaking into a run, his shield at the ready._

_But even he, with his skills and his girth and his weaponry, is no match for the sheer size of the animal as it jumps off the cliff and right at him, throwing him to the ground._

_The Orc is laughing. The warg is growling. Bilbo’s mind races, but he is frozen in place, horrified. They have to help. They have to do something._

_Thorin struggles to his feet, but before he can even find his footing, the Orc is charging again, and Thorin has no time to ward off his attack. Azog’s mace hits him in the chest first, and swings up, knocking him back to the ground again._

_Balin and Dwalin, helpless, are shouting for their King. Gandalf is struggling to keep a hold on his staff, to which Dori and Ori are barely clinging. Where are Fili and Kili?_

_Someone has to help. Someone has to do something._

_Bilbo pulls himself up, finds his footing on the trunk and shakily gets to his feet. His sword...Where is his sword?_

_The warg closes its massive jaw around Thorin, and the shout the Dwarf lets out is bloodcurdling. Bilbo thinks he can feel his pain, can hardly imagine the beast’s teeth digging into Thorin’s flesh. The warg shakes him like a rag doll._

_The Orc turns to Bilbo, and he smiles, menacing, evil and thoughtless._

_And then the Warg gives one last mighty swing of its head, and releases Thorin..._

_...Right over the edge of the cliff._

“THORIN!”

Bilbo wakes with a jolt and a shout. His vision is blurry, and for seconds on end he thinks they’re still at the cliff, fire surrounding them, the tree beneath them unsteadily holding onto the ground with its quickly breaking roots. But when his eyes focus, he finds they are where the eagles had dropped them off. It’s night time, and the Dwarves (and perhaps Gandalf) are all asleep, save one.

Bilbo sits up to find Thorin by what are undoubtedly stairs carved out of the stone. His back is to the slumbering group, but Bilbo knows he is alert as ever. He finds himself sighing in relief to see Thorin here, alive and...well, perhaps “well” is relative, but he _is_ alive, and after what he went through, that is more than any of them can ask for.

He tries to sleep again, but finds he cannot. Azog’s laugh is ringing in his ear, as is Thorin’s cry. When he closes his eyes, all he sees is Thorin, lifeless and still as if in death. It jars him more than he can say. From the moment Thorin had stepped foot in Bag End, he had seemed to Bilbo a majestic, heroic figure, untouchable by danger and pain. Thorin is strong, fierce, a warrior, standing his ground against even the most fearsome creatures Bilbo has already had the misfortune of coming across. To see him so...broken and nearly defeated had all but stopped Bilbo’s heart. It had felt unnatural. It had felt wrong. And now, he cannot shake it.

The night wind blows a cold breeze, and Bilbo shudders. His coat is thick, but not thick enough to ward it off. He’s much too far from the fire, but it is his only option. Carefully, he rises to his feet, and steps around the other Dwarves as quietly as he possibly can. But when he steps close to the fire, it casts his shadow on the ground, and Thorin turns, hand momentarily reaching for his sword.

Bilbo puts his hands up, both in placation and to show he means no harm. “It’s me,” he says quietly, only putting his hands down when he sees Thorin’s expression and body soften.

“You should be resting,” Thorin tells him when Bilbo joins him by the fire, “We have much ground to cover come daylight.”

“I can’t sleep,” Bilbo replies honestly, “Besides, I think I’m getting used to having my sleep disturbed by something or other. At least this time the earth hasn’t opened up and swallowed us.”

Bilbo thinks he hears Thorin let out a small snort, and he smiles to himself. He realizes he’s never heard Thorin actually laugh. He wonders what it might sound like.

Thorin reaches out with a branch to stoke the fire a little more, but winces as his arm extends to its full length. He draws it back sharply, bending forward instead to cover the distance lost.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asks, “Oh, what am I saying, of course you aren’t all right. You were in that beast’s chompers, weren’t you? And that’s not even the half of it.”

“I’ll live,” Thorin shrugs, “Thanks to you.”

“Me?” Bilbo asks, brows furrowing in confusion, “I did nothing. Gandalf woke you.”

“You stood your ground in front of those monsters,” Thorin points out, “You put yourself in harm’s way. That, Halfling, is no small feat. That took courage, far more courage than I had thought you capable of. You proved me wrong about you. Although I am displeased that it had to come to that for me to see.”

Bilbo doesn’t quite know what to say to such a pronouncement, so instead he gives Thorin a small smile of appreciation, but Thorin has turned to the fire again.

“Why would you do that?”

Thorin had asked the question so quietly, Bilbo thinks he imagined it. “Sorry?”

“Why would you risk your own life to save that of someone you barely know or care about?” Thorin asks him, “You could have let me die, or you could have just stayed where you were and safe out of harm’s way, at least. But you didn’t. Why?”

Bilbo cocks his head to one side, trying to study Thorin’s face, but his expression is stony and unreadable. “Why wouldn’t I?” Bilbo replies, “It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? You were in danger, we had to help. I was capable of doing it, so I did.”

“You could have died,” Thorin emphasizes.

“As could you have,” Bilbo returns, “When you hung yourself off the side of the mountain to pull me back up to safety. Do you remember? You could have fallen. You nearly did, if Dwalin hadn’t caught you. Why save _me_? You could have let me fall and had gone on your merry way and continued on your quest, but you chose to save me.”

“So you were only repaying a debt?” Thorin asks, an eyebrow rising on his forehead.

Bilbo sputters, indignant. “I was not thinking of it that way at all!” he says, cross, “A life is nothing to bargain or barter with! Unless, of course, _you_ were considering it a debt and are now considering it repaid, in which case I am in no means obligated to try and save your life again, if it should come to that, which you and I both hope shan’t happen again.”

Thorin purses his lips and glares at the fire.

“Besides,” Bilbo continues, drawing his knees up to him a little against the cold, “I can’t say that I don’t know you. I know exactly who you are.”

“And who am I, Master Baggins?” inquires Thorin, turning to face him now, “Or rather, who is it that you think I am?”

Bilbo raises his chin, looks Thorin straight in the eye. “You are Thorin,” he starts, “son of Thrain. King Under the Mountain. But more than that, you are a strong leader, a fierce warrior, loyal to his people, driven and passionate and courageous. The kind of heroes they write enduring songs and stories about.”

Thorin shakes his head. “It is your turn to be wrong, Master Hobbit,” he says with an almost derisive snort, “I am no hero.”

“Do you really believe that?” Bilbo retorts, incredulous, “Look around you. These Dwarves are here because of _you_. They are alive because of _you_. Your people endure even after a disaster as mighty as the dragon’s wrath because of _you_. You are a hero, Thorin Oakenshield, not because you’ve fought many wars and won, but because you’ve acted selflessly, for the good of others more than your own. And I feel sure I am not alone in thinking so.”

He turns his head in the direction of Thorin’s sleeping nephews. He’d heard them speaking together quietly just before they’d fallen asleep. If Thorin could have heard, he would not be so doubtful of himself.

“But what will they see now, I wonder,” Thorin answers darkly, “If once I had stood a beacon of hope, what would they think of me now, having seen me on the edge of death, because I could not defeat my enemy? What would they see now when they look at me, if not a half-broken monarch clinging desperately to vestiges of a past almost forgotten by most?”

“Have your wounds gone untended too long?” Bilbo asks in irritation, “Has the pain caused your brain to break? Listen to you! This isn’t you! This isn’t the Dwarf King who marched his way into my dining hall and lit a fire underneath twelve other Dwarves strong enough to make them believe in your cause! This isn’t the Dwarf King who faced down three trolls to keep me from being eaten! This isn’t the Dwarf King who charged down a falling tree to face an adversary much bigger than himself to give his Company a fighting chance!”

Thorin almost looks ashamed.

“Just because you’ve lost your shield doesn’t make you any less of your name,” Bilbo ploughs on, “You are Thorin Oakenshield. You are a King. These are your people. We are your Company. And we will follow you, King Thorin, to whatever end. If you cannot believe in yourself just yet, believe in that.”

Thorin’s expression changes again. He looks at Bilbo now with curiosity, as if seeing him for the first time, or at least very differently. Bilbo feels himself flushing underneath Thorin’s scrutinizing gaze, and he clears his throat and looks away.

“Peace, Bilbo,” Thorin says, but not unkindly, “It is curious, my friend, how my troubles could offend you so deeply as to anger you. But if it would please you, I shall speak no more of them, and do as you say.”

Thorin reaches out, a little more carefully this time, and places a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo finds it more comforting and calming than perhaps it should be. When Thorin draws his hand back, the light of the fire reveals a wounded palm. Bilbo’s eyes fall on it, and Thorin sees.

“It’s nothing,” Thorin says dismissively, “I’ve had worse.”

“Well, you can’t keep holding your sword with that, can you?” Bilbo points out, “Especially _that_ sword. It looks as though you need a very steady grip on it to be able to swing it around the way you do. Stay here.”

Thorin watches Bilbo stand and carefully make his way to his rucksack, where he retrieves a salve and a cloth. “You don’t have to,” Thorin tells him when Bilbo returns, sitting closer to him now.

“I want to,” Bilbo shrugs, because it is the truth, “Besides, I stole these from Rivendell for a purpose.”

Thorin grins, and Bilbo suspects it is at the thought that the Elves had a few supplies stolen from them right under their noses. He tells Thorin that he’ll have to remove his bracer, and Thorin obliges. Bilbo takes his hand so that his palm is facing up. Wordlessly, he applies the Elvish salve to Thorin’s wounds. It’s cool on his fingers, and it smells slightly of mint. He’s only slightly aware of Thorin watching him as he wraps the cloth around Thorin’s wrist first and then around his palm tightly but gently before tucking the loose end carefully into one of the folds. He takes Thorin’s bracer and helps his hand back into it.

“There we go,” Bilbo says brightly, “Good as...well, not quite new, is it? But it will have to do until we can get better help.”

“It _will_ do,” Thorin replies, “Thank you.” He flexes his fingers, opening and closing his fist to see that he can still do so comfortably even with the bandage. “Will you rest now? You’ve done much tonight already, and we have to leave before the light of day.”

“Then there’s no point in sleeping, is there?” Bilbo counters, “I suspect sunrise is just a few hours away. Besides, two pairs of eyes will see more than just one.”

Thorin gives him a small, appreciative smile and inclines his head as a bow, silently accepting Bilbo’s offer to keep him company and keep watch with him. But less than half an hour later, in their complete silence, Bilbo falls asleep again, leaning against the rock behind them. His slumber is more peaceful this time. So peaceful and encompassing, in fact, that he doesn’t even feel it when Thorin puts his own heavy coat with its fur collar over him to keep the cold away.

 

**_~ END. ~_ **

**Author's Note:**

> PS - pls forgive the kinda ooc!Thorin, it had to happen that way for the fic to work DO NOT STONE ME I AM SOFT AND SENSITIVE LIKE AN OFFENDED CINNAMON ROLL.


End file.
